


That 'Stang

by lindamonroe



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Gen, Nightmare Time Episode 5: Jane's a Car, Not Canon Compliant, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindamonroe/pseuds/lindamonroe
Summary: Tom is determined to convince a skeptical Emma that Jane's a car. No matter what.
Relationships: Tim Houston & Emma Perkins, Tim Houston & Tom Houston, Tom Houston & Emma Perkins, Tom Houston/Jane Perkins
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	That 'Stang

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: car crashes, parent death, blood

There was only one thing running through Emma’s mind as she parked her car next to the sidewalk by the house. God, I hope he’s okay. Which was a weird thing to have to be thinking about her brother in law on a Wednesday evening! First of all, Emma didn’t believe in any god. If a god did exist, that god was an asshole. What kind of omnipotent being uses their power to eliminate one of its best creations? And for what? To spite the people closest to her? And if they didn’t eliminate her... what then? The idea of an asshole god didn’t sit too well with her. 

The other thing was that she'd never had to worry about Tom like this before. Hell, she'd never had to worry about anyone like this before. Jane's death had been hard on both of them, but she'd never even dreamed it would make him think she was inside their car. 

And Tim. Had Tom told Tim? But that was a whole other flurry of thoughts which Emma just pushed aside as she rang the bell, her finger lingering on the button for a moment longer than necessary. She did it every time. It was Jane's house, too, after all. She missed her. 

Shuffling noises and a too-loud ‘hold on!’ came distantly from inside, and Emma took a step back as she complied. For whatever fucked up reason, the house’s door opened outward instead of inward. It had only taken three direct hits to the face (including a bloody nose) for her to remember that. Now she was hyper-aware of it and altogether confused who the hell had designed such a monstrosity. 

She finally heard Tom lumber his way to the door, and she successfully evaded the bloody nose menace in front of her when he swung it open abruptly. Nice. 

“Hi.” 

Damn. Without fail, Tom was always absolutely horrible at greeting her on the rare occasions when she visited. 

Much less gruffly than usual, he continued, “Good to see you. I’m glad you could drop by on such short notice. She’s excited to see you again!” 

She flashed a nervous smile back at him. Courtesy? Probably. “Hey, Tom. Uh... good to see you, too.” 

Something about the look in his eyes as he spoke was haunting. Not that he looked evil or anything. Just how genuine he seemed. Maybe that was the scariest thing of all. Emma thought back to what he'd said earlier that day about her considering if he was right. For the first time, she truly thought about it. What if Jane was in the car? What would it be like? 

Emma had never been too big on needing physical touch. It didn't bother her but it wasn't like she craved it, either. Going off on her own basically just sealed the envelope. 

But all this time, all she’d wanted was to be able to hug Jane one last time. 

Did she want Jane to be in that car? Or would it just hurt even more? 

She struggled to find the words. “Yeah! Yeah, it’s... yeah. Let’s just say this wasn’t how I was planning on spending my night.” She chuckled a little, trying to brush it off. It wasn’t that simple. If only. “So! Uh. You’re sure about this?” 

Tom laughed a little too loudly, even for him, and hit the garage door opener from where he was standing. “’Course I am! It’s her voice, clear as day. And she knows a bunch of stuff that only Jane would know.” 

She was unconvinced, but followed him the few steps to the garage nonetheless like a confused little puppy that couldn’t find its ball. Sure, she was skeptical. But if Jane was in there, then Jane was in there. No buts about it. 

As the garage door squeaked to its apex, Tom rounded the corner and immediately faced the car with a big grin, reaching behind him to grab Emma and pull her forward the last few inches. “Jane! I got her!” 

He stopped for a second and continued to stare at the car for an extra moment before guffawing and smiling like Emma hadn’t seen him do since... well, ever. She eyed him warily. 

“I really didn’t think she’d come, either! I mean, how ridiculous does it sound? A woman in a car? It’s nuts!” He glanced at Emma as he spoke with a sparkle in his eye before pausing once more. 

Another beat of utter silence passed. 

And again, out of nowhere, he chuckled and shook his head good-naturedly as he glanced over at Emma with a smile. “She’s got you there, Emma,” he laughed, “Don’t you think?” 

Emma stared back at him, dumbfounded, after listening to what sounded like half a conversation. She blinked at him blankly for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of joke, Tom? Do you think you're being funny?” she burst out, throwing her hands up and almost knocking some of the useless junk that cluttered the garage off its shelf. God, that shit was everywhere! Lining the walls and the shelves and all over the floor of the garage except for where it'd been shoved aside to make room for the stupid car. The car she'd been dumb enough to believe even for a moment might hold her dead fucking sister! 

She softened for a moment, seeing the look on his face. “Sorry.” 

She waved her hands around nonspecifically in an attempt to somehow make sense of whatever the hell was going on. “I... Was I supposed to hear something? A horn? Her voice?” 

Her gaze settled on the car for the first and she eyed it with more than a little suspicion at the same time that his settled on her and regarded her with absolute distaste. 

“Of course you were supposed to hear something! That was perfectly clear! Have you gone deaf in the two minutes since we walked out here?” 

Something akin to ‘I probably will go deaf if you keep fucking yelling at me’ crossed her mind, but she held her tongue. Instead, she settled for the sensible thing that Jane would want to hear if she were there with them. “No, I did not go deaf, Tom. I can hear you perfectly fine. But I didn’t hear a peep out of that car.” 

Tom started to retort, then stopped to listen to the silence, nodding his head. 

“You’re right, Jane. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about! Unless- oh, Jane! She’s Emma!” 

Nothing. 

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that. You’re always one step ahead of me, honey!” 

He was smiling once more and looked back at his sister in law. “You’re so funny! Always the jokester, weren’t you?” He laughed coldly, suddenly turning insistent eyes on her. “But you hear her, don’t you?” 

Again, all Emma could do was stare at him with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. That laugh was fucking terrifying. As it echoed in the otherwise silent garage, Emma couldn’t help but wish Jane really was in there with them. 

“Tom, you're starting to scare me a little bit,” she said, taking an instinctual half-step back and almost banging into the same dumb shelf. She had a vague thought that it was fucking weird how many tools he had on it. “I'm dead serious, okay? Is this part of the joke? The only two voices I've heard since we walked in here are yours and mine.” 

She folded her arms over her chest and racked her brains for how on earth to approach this without him doing that again. Holy shit. 

“Has she said anything since we first came in?” She still didn’t believe him. not in the damn slightest. But he deserved a chance, right? 

Jane deserved a chance. 

“Look, Tom. Maybe I just missed it the first time?” 

Tom glared at her with slightly more of a normal attitude than whatever the hell had passed over him briefly there. “She was pretty damn loud, Emma. I don’t get how you could’ve missed it. But sure! Why not.” He rolled his eyes and looked toward the car expectantly. 

Still nothing. 

But she felt Tom’s eyes back on her anyway. 

She avoided his stare and studied the car. It was in good shape. Surprisingly good, really, considering it hadn’t been used in a year and was so damn old. It was a nice color? Emma wasn’t a car snob by any means, but it was clear that Tom had put good time into this thing. She guessed it would be a fine car to be inside. Probably better than her beat-up old 2003 Camry. 

“You’re just not going to answer her question?” 

Emma furrowed her eyebrows. “What?” 

He bubbled with annoyance, and she couldn’t help but think he looked like a huffy little toddler. “She asked why you didn’t leave a note when you left for Venezuela!” 

“Guatemala.” 

“Same difference.” 

She opened her mouth to argue and just let it shut. Whatever. He could barely remember Paul’s name, let alone random countries’ names. 

But Jane? Jane would have known it was Guatemala. She wouldn’t have made that mistake. 

Interesting. 

He barreled on, taking little to no regard of her. “She’s in the car, Emma. No matter how much you pretend your puny little brain doesn’t hear her lovely voice, it’s there and it’s clear as day. Jane is in the car whether you like it or not.” 

So sincere, so passionate, and so wrong. 

Nearly shaking with emotion, he turned back to the car. “Janey, you tell her! Tell her it’s vile and cruel to pretend she doesn’t hear you! That you’re here and she needs to value you as much as I d-” 

He stopped abruptly and listened to the nothingness. 

“Alright, alright. Maybe I was a little harsh. But you’re in there and she needs to acknowledge that! Is that too much to ask?” 

With pursed lips and a frown, Emma shook her head at him a little bit sadly. “She's not, Tom.” 

The anger didn't surprise her. The sudden stop and acknowledgement didn't surprise her. Hell, Jane being the one to stop his rant was the least surprising of all. That was Jane. Always defending her little sister. That alone almost made Emma willing to believe it was her for just a brief moment. But no; no. It was just Tom, Emma, and the mustang. No one else. 

“And I know; I know, I know! You want her to be. I wanted to be in there too.” 

Did she? 

“But she's not, Tom. The car isn't talking.” 

No, the thing that surprised her was Tom calling her Janey. Which, duh. But anyway. Having been gone so long, Emma and Tom hadn't met until Jane wasn't there to egg them on to hug or be all happy and supportive or any of that shit. She'd never heard Tom call Jane anything but her name to her face, let alone the nickname their parents had used. 

“Jane is dead, Tom. not a car.” 

His eyes flashed dangerously. “How do you know that? I hear her. I hear her more than I can hear you! And I bet anything that if I went upstairs and asked Tim he’d hear her too. But Jane told me to get you. Not Tim; you. Because she wanted to see you. And you’re not even giving her the fucking time of day! Typical. You didn't even try to believe it,” he hissed, “Just like how you didn’t even try to come visit her when she was a person.” 

Her train of thought trying to come up with retorts for everything else he just rattled off stopped dead in its tracks when he said that and her jaw nearly hit the floor. She stayed like that for a moment, staring at him, motionless, but her mind and heart racing a million miles an hour. 

“You did not just say that.” 

She was not going to cry in front of Tom. Hell, she didn’t cry; period! Who was this fucking lunatic to make it otherwise? Fighting back the angry tears, Emma spluttered and tried to thin a raging mass of swirling thoughts and expletives into a coherent sentence. 

“I did everything I- She- How could I have- Ugh! Fuck you!” 

Emma swung both fists through the air at nothing in particular and cried out in anguish. She took a deep breath and turned on Tom in a cold rage. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared to have to come see her perfect fucking life when mine was such a pile of horseshit!” 

She narrowed her eyes. Game on, Houston. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared for you to be such a fucking idiot and kill her.” 

He spat the word at her like it tasted of garbage. “Bitch.” 

“Oh, so I’m a bitch? Nice to see you've caught up with the class.” There was a certain glint in her eye as she said that. That wonderful Perkins-trademarked glint of ‘I have officially stopped giving a fuck. The filter is going off.’ And so off the filter went with a petty glee. 

This time she didn't step back at all. Not even a fucking inch. She held her ground and even took some, staring him down as best she could when she was actually staring up. “You're being real fucking bold today, Houston. Talking shit about your sister in law while your dead wife is apparently in the room and can hear you?” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, testing him. 

“You know, I'm happy I told her to keep our last name instead of taking yours. And if you didn't want me in your life then maybe you shouldn't have stolen hers! I would've been perfectly happy to stay down there but you just had to go and fuck everything up, didn't you?” 

It was coming easily now. Years of pent up anger can do that to you. And it wasn't as if she would've said any of it on a normal day. But Emma meant everything she said... and maybe that was the worst part of all. 

She hooted, somehow brushing off the severity of the situation that way. “Until today, I believed that it was an accident. But after your ‘shenanigans’ I’m not so sure anymore.” 

Tom didn’t say anything. Keeping eye contact with her, he stepped back, opened the door to the driver’s side, and got in. 

“What, you’re gonna just drive away? Who’s the one running away now?” 

He pursed his lips and gestured to the passenger seat. 

Emma sighed loudly and took a second to muster every ounce of patience she had left in order to talk to Tom somewhat reasonably. It was not a lot. His silence wasn't doing him any favors when Emma didn't believe a word he said in the first place. “You want me to get in the car? Seriously?” 

His tone was softer. “Maybe you’ll be able to hear her in here.” 

Something about his eyes made her stop before she retorted and she took a second to consider his side of it. As much as she hated to admit it, as one of her last connections to Jane, he was important to her. Overly loud voice, flannel, and all; he was family. It was one of those you-don't-miss-it-until-it's-gone situations. You would think that at some point Emma would drop that mentality and just care about the people close to her. But nope! The joys of being so fucking stubborn. 

She got inside without a word. 

They sat in the silence for a moment. 

He started the car. 

Another moment. 

Nothing. 

She’d had enough. “Listen to yourself, Tom! Do you have any idea what you sound like? You're talking to yourself insisting it's your dead wife inside of your car. And you're not even voicing her parts! It's just you talking to thin air, and that shit isn't getting any thicker any time soon.” Maybe that was a good sign that he wasn't saying her part, actually. That would've screamed ‘crazy psycho’ no matter how patient you were with him. “I just want to help you out, okay? We're family. Kinda. And if that means getting you an appointment with some psychiatr- therapist or something, then so be it!” 

“I don’t need a psychiatrist, Emma. Jane is a psychiatrist.” 

“Jane was a psychiatrist once upon a time, Tom, but Jane is fucking dead!” she shouted. 

A different type of silence hung in the air this time. 

“Get out.” 

She shoved the stupid door open and slammed it shut behind her, storming out of the garage. “I'll call Becky once I’m home to make you an appointment.” 

“Jane says you won’t.” 

Emma stopped partway down the drive and spun on her heel to yell at him more. To her surprise, he hadn’t budged from where he was in the driver’s seat and had both hands on the wheel. “Excuse me?” 

“She said you’re not going anywhere?” 

Sighing, she reluctantly walked back toward the car. “Listen, Tom, please just go inside and get some sleep or something. I can take Tim for the night if you need me to. I still have a bunch of those spaghetti and meatball things he and I like so we’d be fine.” 

He shook his head. A soft purring noise was audible instead. Not from him, but from the car. Wait, why was the car still running? 

The car jolted forward and Emma jumped out of her skin. “What the fuck, dude!” 

But it didn’t stop. She backed away, almost tripping over her own feet and the uneven pavers in the driveway. “Tom. Tom! Stop the motherfucking car!” 

A noise like a pot dropping onto tile sounded from inside the house as Emma’s shouts got louder. “Tom! Stop!” 

And now he was shouting too. “Jane! Jane, stop it!” 

“Don’t fucking blame this on Jane, Tom! Stop!” 

“I can’t!” 

“What do you mean you can’t? You’re fucking driving it! Stop!” 

The front door flew open and Tim, evidently the culprit behind the loud noise, ran outside to see his dad advancing more and more quickly on his aunt. 

“Dad! Stop!” 

His cries were futile. The engine revved, the Houstons screamed, and Emma took off sprinting down the road. 

All along the pristine little suburban street, doors were opening and people were coming outside to see what the hell the screaming was all about. It was immediately obvious, seeing as the headlights outlined her figure perfectly in the dark and soon there was a whole torrent of neighbors yelling Tom’s name. 

But while she appreciated the help, an entire neighborhood’s yelling was apparently not a viable deterrent to Tom Houston and his Mustang. 

Thunk. 

A crash. 

Small arms shaking her desperately. 

Silence. 

... 

A day later, Emma faced the Mustang solemnly, Tim by her side and clutching at her hand as she tried not to think. About anything, really. Especially not Jane. 

Some things are easier said than done. 

She glanced down at him and gave him her best attempt at a smile. 

His expression didn’t change. It was more broken, even. 

God, he was only nine! She had been right. God was an asshole. 

Wordlessly, she opened her arms and he clung to her without a second thought, his small body shaking just a little bit as she held him there. She was no mother, but she’d try her damn hardest to do whatever she could for him. 

That was the one thing about Tom’s psyche she could understand, even with all that she didn’t. Something about Tim made you want to do anything and everything for him. Not in the eerie way that Tom had been so drawn to the car, but in an instinct way. Holding the poor quivering boy gave Emma access to all the emotions that had been locked away since her brother tried to run her over with what he was firmly convinced was her sister. 

Everything she knew, she had told Tim. He deserved to know exactly what had happened to his father, seeing as Tom wasn't going to be able to explain it himself for at least a few months. Emma had already had the unfortunate experience of being completely and totally in the dark about her mother’s disappearance when she was little and had only realized years later that she had been cheating. Although it was painful to know now, it wouldn’t tear Tim up so much later on. 

At least she hoped so. She didn’t know what it was like to be completely aware of it all, and that might’ve been worse. But that had been Jane’s experience, not hers. 

And it wasn’t as if she could ask her. 

It was right there. Parked in the Houstons’ driveway and awaiting the tow truck they’d called a little while ago. 

Tim finally pulled away from the hug with a murmur of ‘thank you’, and she pressed a soft ‘of course’ into his hair with a kiss. 

They stood there for another moment before Emma finally moved to cautiously pry the door open as if it would explode in her face at any second. Tim looked twice as wary. 

But the inside looked mostly empty except for the keys. Maybe there was stuff in the glovebox? She went to reach across the driver’s side to open it, then stopped and turned back halfway, sensing something was wrong. 

She saw immediately that Tim was quickly approaching another level of distress and she jumped up to go catch him in another embrace. “Hey, hey! Hey, bud. You’re okay. I’m here.” 

Her poor nephew wiped away the beginnings of tears quickly and talked into her shoulder, the sound coming out a little muffled but still with a clear message. “Can I go inside? I don’t wanna...” 

Without wasting a moment, Emma nodded with a ‘for sure’, and he relaxed. 

With one last squeeze, he avoided looking back at the car and instead headed for the house. “Thanks, Aunt Emma,” she heard, and her heart of stone broke for him. 

“Of course, Tim. I love you, buddy. I’ll be in there in a minute.” 

And then he was gone. 

Just Emma and the fucking car. 

That ‘Stang had taken one of her two remaining relatives. 

That stang. 

Stung. Whatever. She clambered back over the driver’s seat and popped open the glovebox. She had been right; there was shit in there already. Nothing special, just a handful of CDs and a cassette cover. Putting the dots together, she hit eject on the little tapedeck and the thing came puttering out with relatively little protest. She tucked it into its case and was set. 

She stayed in the driver’s seat for a moment longer though. Just sitting there. She ran a hand over the steering wheel and marveled at how new all the interior was. He’d done a nice job with it. 

“Shame he had to go and bang up the outside like that,” she muttered, “I could’ve used something like this.” 

Something else creaked outside the car and she jumped a mile with a signature ‘holy shit!’ for good measure. But after a look over the dash, it was evidently just the hood moving up a little bit where he’d dented the damn thing. 

“Well,” she said, to no one in particular except the car, “It sucks to see you go. But hey, can’t say I’m too sorry to see it. Bye.” 

She climbed back out of the car, and it was only as she moved to slam the door that she heard the one thing she didn’t want to. 

A voice. 

A very certain voice. 

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
